


The Pull of Fate

by fineandwittie



Category: The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Alternate - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, Gen, Plot Bunny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 10:15:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineandwittie/pseuds/fineandwittie
Summary: Uhtred, instead of bringing the new runesticks directly to Gisela, felt the pull of fate and cast them first. It changes everything
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	The Pull of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Unproofread. 
> 
> This is just a little plot bunny. I read that scene and couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he had cast the runes. I have no intention of continuing this, but it wouldn't let my brain go.

_The next morning, I bought a set of runesticks from one of Ulf’s men…_ (Lords of the North, p. 125)

They were black and scuffed, not nearly as nice as the white ones that had burn, but still I paid well for them. I intended to give them to Gisela to replace the ones that Guthred ruined, but some instinct, perhaps the touch of fate, told me to cast them. And so I took them out into the woods, away from Guthred’s camp, and I saw what it was that made Gisela so angry.

Betrayal and enslavement, that is what I saw in the runesticks, though I have very little practice in casting them and had not done so for many years. But the gods were good to me that day and I read them true.

I crouched before them, staring down at them, and thought of Guthred’s questions and his forced merriment the night before, of Ivarr’s presence, of Kjartan and the need for more men, of my uncle and his garrison. I understood abruptly what it was the Guthred had planned for me or something like. 

But I had given him my oath and he had not released me from it, so I could not leave. But what I could do instead was outwit him. But I needed more time and was jolted by the realization that I would not have it. I must have been the reason that Guthred was insisting on going to Gyruum even though there was to be a storm. 

So I went back to the camp, told Clapa that I was feeling poorly and could not hunt that day, and sent him to Guthred with the message. I went into my tent and wrapped myself in furs until I began to sweat and waited.

It was Guthred himself who came to me, face creased with worry. “My friend, Clapa had told me you are ill and cannot ride today! Surely not! We must hunt.”

I moaned softly and rolled onto my side so that my face was hidden from him. I did not want him to see my hate. “Lord, I cannot. My belly feels like fire and I am too cold to leave the furs.” I tried to sound as pathetic as I could.

Guthred for his part must have believed me. He edged forward to peer at me through squinted eyes, but he nodded. “Of course, Uhtred. Sleep. The hunt can be put off until tomorrow. Recover.” He said and nodded, before leaving me to my rest.

As soon as I was sure that he had truly gone, I threw off the furs and wiped my face. There were plans I must make and quietly. For that night I would once again turn myself into a sceadugengan, a shadow-walker. 

I knew that I could not challenge Ivarr otherwise, for Guthred would forbid it, but with Ivarr there, I was no longer valuable enough to keep. My uncle and his oath came with troops, hundreds of them in fact, but men are useless without a commander and Guthred only had the two: Ivarr and I. Eadred was priest and so pointless in war. Ulf was a good soldier, but no strategist, which was something Guthred knew. If I could remove the threat of Ivarr, than I would make myself necessary to the king. 

If I could do that, then I could killed Kjartan, take Dunholm, and then demand Gisela for my bride. If I could do that, then I could free myself from my oath and usurp Guthred’s shaky authority. The Danes would follow me because I was a Dane and a pagan and because they thought Guthred was a fool. The Saxons could be reminded that it was my face that Eadred mistook for the king in his vision. In fact, if I promised Eadred his shrine to Cuthbert, than perhaps he might be persuaded to side with me as well. I had a great hoard buried in the hills of my small Wessex’s estate. Hild could be sent to fetch it for she knew where it was. I would build her a nunnery from it, so that she may be content again. 

But before all that, I needed first to lure Ivarr away from the camp and kill him, for I would not kill him in his bed. I would not dishonor him or his family in such a way, though he would not have done me the same courtesy. 

And so, I spent the day alone in my tent, making plans and sharpening my weapons and preparing for war.


End file.
